


Dial 'M' For Mountie

by california_112



Category: due South
Genre: Case Fic, Constable Kitts (OC), Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29717250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/california_112/pseuds/california_112
Summary: "Five-five-five, seven-oh-four-three," he said smartly, "Benton Fraser speaking."There was no reply from his friend, just static. Taking the handset away from his ear with a frown, he briefly joggled the connection, then listened again. This time, there was a faint sound of voices, though not any he recognized.-or-Fraser finally agrees to get a phone installed in his apartment, to Ray's delight. But how long will it last?ABSOLUTELY 0% SPOILERS FOR ANYTHING
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Dial 'M' For Mountie

As usual, Constable Fraser's bright red dress uniform bought the attention of all those around him as soon as he entered the squad room- not to mention the large white half-wolf trotting beside him. Walking the familiar route to Detective Vecchio's desk, with many side-steps and quiet apologies, Fraser was surprised to be grabbed by his friend when only half-way there, spun around, and forcibly led back out to the corridor. Confused, he turned to the Detective as they reached the stairs. Diefenbaker slipping through the doors to join them.

"Ray-?"

"Sorry, Benny," Ray replied, casting a glance back through the door to his superior's office, "I can't let Welsh spot that beacon of a tunic." When Fraser looked confused, he continued somewhat contritely. "He didn't exactly...give me leave for this."

"If you're busy, Ray, I'm sure I can handle it on my own." Fraser said seriously.

"Nah, Benny, I've only really got that double act robbery string, it can wait. There's no leads anyway."

They had reached the bottom of the stairs, turning to the main doors, when they ran into Lieutenant Welsh coming the other way, laden with cold cuts and mayonnaise. He ignored the puppy eyes that Dief was attempting to use on him.

"What was that about leads, Vecchio?" he opened, smiling piercingly, "I hope you were saying 'I've got one and am perusing it now', or there's really be no reason to have left your desk."

Clearing his throat, Ray's voice took on a more serious, louder timbre, and he lied easily. "Uh, yes sir, I've got a very promising lead that I'm currently pursuing. I really should get on it, sir, if you don't mind..."

Welsh watched as his detective pulled the confused Mountie along the corridor and out the precinct, the wolf following sedately. Those three going off together usually _wasn't_ indicative of serious police work, but he would let it slide if it actually turned up something useful.

Once they were in the Riv, Diefenbaker settling down on the back seat, Fraser gave Ray a pointed look, which was even more pointedly ignored.

"You lied, Ray, you don't have a promising lead." He clipped his seatbelt. "You don't have-"

"Alright, alright, no need to remind me." They joined the flow of traffic, heading north. "Anyway, this is technically my lunch hour, so Welsh can stuff it."

Fraser ignored the last part, instead saying "You don't have to give up your lunch hour for me. I'm sure I can-"

"Fraser, have you ever dealt with a large corporation in Chicago? In the US, even?"

"Yes, I-"

"Not Consulate business, on a personal matter."

"No."

"Then you need me to handle it for you, I've got experience. Those guys'll stiff you for every cent you've got if you're not careful." Ray grinned. "Anyway, I need to see this with my own eyes. Benton Fraser, getting a landline installed?"

There was a sigh from the passenger seat. "I'm still not sure about it. It doesn't feel-"

"It feels good, Benny, it feels great." Ray insisted. "Now, I won't have to be your answering service anymore, and people will actually be able to get hold of you without needing to learn semiflags or whatever."

"Semaphore, Ray, and it's not actually all that difficult to learn. It works on-"

"Yeah, ok."

A short time later, after a quick stop at a sandwich shop, they pulled up outside Fraser's building and went upstairs. As the trio reached the third floor, they soon spotted a gum-chewing older teen wearing the garish yellow and orange polo shirt of the Chicago Telephone Company waiting outside 3J, holding a toolbox, sack and clipboard. The latter was heavy with almost half an inch of paperwork, and his uniform was clean but crumpled.

"You Fraser?" he asked, juggling his load to glance at the clipboard. "And is that a wolf?"

"Yes, I am, and yes, he is." The Mountie extended a hand with his usual smile, noting the name tag. "I'm sorry we're late, Nathan-"

"Yeah, ok." The kid cut off the apology emotionlessly, apparently untroubled by his client's pet. "Can I get in and get started? I've got lunch in half an hour."

Ray stepped into the conversation, brandishing his badge. "Ok, kid, I'm Fraser's friend- Detective Vecchio, CPD." He did not offer his hand, just a hard stare and a sarcastic smile. "Don't try anything, ok? Just install the phone." Diefenbaker gave a low growl of agreement.

"Sheesh, ok." Nathan muttered with an eye roll, following Fraser into the flat. "I just wanna get this done and get outta here."

"Yeah, well do it right or I'll be complaining to-"

"Ray, let him be." Fraser pulled his friend aside as Nathan unpacked his tools under the wolf's watchful gaze. "I'm sure he's perfectly able to install a simple landline. He's worked at the phone company for over a year, and-"

"Hey, how do you know that?" Nathan paused, suspicious rather than curious.

Fraser turned, the previous conversation forgotten, and tilted his head as he began to explain. "Well, to begin with, the colour of your uniform indicates that-"

"He's a Mountie, it's a thing they do." Ray broke in, cutting off the beginning of a lengthy explanation whilst dragging his friend to the dining table. "You just do your job, and we'll do ours." He put their sandwiches down, unwrapping his and preparing to take a bite.

"That's what you get paid to do, eat sandwiches?" Nathan smirked.

"I'll have you know I-"

"Ray." Fraser glared pointedly over his ham on rye, and the detective finally quieted down.

Ten minutes passed with little conversation, the only sounds being the chewing and crinkling of two hungry policemen and an occasional snap from Dief as he devoured his sandwich. Nathan hummed pop music under his breath as he mounted the handset on the central partition, facing the main room. Once he was finished eating, Fraser stood and approached him.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked politely.

The younger man eyed him with a sarcastic frown. "Uh, no thanks. I'm ok." He picked up a coil of wire, some cable nails, and a hammer. "Last thing I've got to do is connect this to the system, then I'm outta here. Whilst I'm doing that, you can sign the paperwork."

"Very well. And thank you kindly."

Nathan shot an incredulous look at Ray, who resisted the urge to sympathise and instead replied with a suspicious look at the clipboard. Whilst Fraser cleared the sandwich wrappers, Dief watched proceedings and the detective checked the forms warily, all too aware what kids might be willing to pull for an insurance claim. However, it seemed that Nathan really did just want to get to his lunch break, as he finished the wiring with five minute to spare before he was due to clock off, and packed away his tools, heading for the door. On the threshold he turned, looking at Fraser.

"The number's on the top of the handset, and you'll get sent a bill on the first of every month. Oh, and one other thing." He narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "How did you know how long I'd been working for the phone company?"

The Mountie launched into his explanation again. "Well, the fact that your uniform is still a bright shade of yellow means you haven't had cause to wash it too many times, but enough that the embroidered logo is quite crumpled. That and your tool-"

"Ok, goodbye." Ray closed the door, staring at Fraser. "You gotta stop doing that."

"He asked me, Ray," Fraser pointed out, "I was only answering a question!"

"Yeah, whatever." The detective had moved into the main room, looking at the new phone with obvious satisfaction. "This looks beautiful, Fraser, welcome to the 1990s."

"Thank you, Ray."

"Hey, you wanna test it?" Ray asked, pulling out his cell phone.

Fraser tilted his head, shrugging. "Why not?" He moved over to the handset. "You might want to go downstairs, though, or there'd be no real-"

"Ok, ok." Ray smirked as he left, somehow reminded of a nervous teenager.

As he waited for the call, Fraser thought about the business of having a phone right in his apartment. It wasn't a revolutionary idea, he just wasn't used to it; he hadn't even thought to ask if there was one when he'd moved in, but it had soon become apparent that people expected him to have one. Not many people, but those that mattered- the Consulate, for instance, was less than impressed that they had no way to get hold of him, as well as Ray when they got to know each other better, and Dief's vet. He still felt that it was still an invasion of his privacy, though, and that's why he had held out- until now.

He also thought about what he was going to say when he picked up. On one hand, he couldn’t exactly do the Consulate greeting he was used to at work, but copying Ray's 'Yeah, what' was hardly a suitable alternative. He had just decided on his script when the phone rang, and he picked it up without hesitation, feeling judged by Dief's penetrating stare.

"Five-five-five, seven-oh-four-three," he said smartly, "Benton Fraser speaking."

There was no reply from his friend, just static. Taking the handset away from his ear with a frown, he briefly joggled the connection, then listened again. This time, there was a faint sound of voices, though not any he recognized.

"…go…this again…time." He was about to hang up, unwilling to intrude on a private conversation, when a phrase caught his attention. "…the guns, meet…o'clock…"

It might be innocent, but on the other hand, it could be criminal. Wiggling the wire again, the voice suddenly leapt to full clarity, and another one joined.

"I'll be there." The new voice was nervous, a stark contrast to the deep and commanding tones of the first speaker.

"Yeah, just don't be late. Tell me what's gonna happen when we get in."

"We get outta car together, balaclavas already on. You go for the till, I keep the customers low." There was a nervous chuckle, hastily suppressed. "Geez, Eddie, it's the same thing every time! I know what I'm doing!"

"Yeah…yeah. You're right, we're the same every time." A pause, and Fraser pressed his ear to the plastic, afraid to miss anything now. "Let's switch it up a bit, you go for the till and I'll do the customers. Oh, and bring some party masks instead, we've done too many of these things in the same outfits. Don't want the police getting too close to us. Sound ok?"

"Whatever you say, Eddie."

"Just be there."

The lines went dead in turn, and Fraser hung up slowly. Remembering Ray's recent ranting, what he'd just overheard fit perfectly with the MO of the robbery string, and he hurried to get the details down whilst he remembered them.

Ray ran in when he was halfway through, looking around briefly before hurrying to join his friend at the table.

"Benny, you ok?"

"Yes, Ray." Fraser replied distractedly, finishing his notes.

"You sure?" Ray stared at him. "You just said your name and then nothing else, I thought something might've happened."

"No, nothing- well, something," Fraser finished his notes with a flourish, "but not that kind of something."

Ray gave an exasperated sigh. "Well are you gonna tell, or is this twenty questions?"

"I overheard the next robbery being planned, Ray." Fraser's expression was one of pure focus, the Mountie focus that often appeared before a particularly convoluted case.

They stared at each other in silence, Ray's disbelief at this statement written plainly on his face. "You did? I didn't hear anything except you."

"Well I didn't hear you, I heard them. Nathan must have crossed a wire somewhere in his installation."

"I thought he'd do a rush job," Ray growled, making for the door, "just let me-"

"Ray, Ray, think." Fraser caught his arm and pulled him back. "If I heard this much this time, what might I hear next time?"

"Me, hopefully, let's get this fixed! Anyway, I thought you didn't like eavesdropping?"

This made Fraser uncomfortable. "Well usually, Ray, I would be completely against it. However, as there is criminal activity involved, it's more of- well- the point is, this information could help to stop the next robbery. It's a lead."

"Ok, fine. Where and when, we'll take it to Welsh and get a sting ready."

"I'm not sure that will be possible, Ray."

"Why not, you got all the details didn’t you?" Ray took the page of notes being proffered and scanned them, finally looking up with a flat expression. "No time, no place." He sighed, briefly closing his eyes. "It fits the pattern, but realistically? These are useless."

Fraser frowned. "Not completely useless, Ray, there's plenty of-"

"'Party masks'? You want me to stop every kid in Chicago, see if there's a robber underneath?"

"There's a name," the Mountie pointed out reasonably, "'Eddie'."

"Fraser, there are thousands of guys called Eddie." Ray pointed out, leaning close and handing the notes back. "It's probably not even his real name, or his full one for that matter. You want me to arrest all the 'Edward's in this city, starting with the desk sergeant?"

In the silence that followed, Fraser bowed his head, nodding at the piece of paper in his hands. After a moment, he looked up, eyes wide and blue. "No, thank you Ray. I see your point." He turned back to the table, and read through his scribbled notes again, checking for anything he might have missed.

"Aw, don't do this to me, I feel like I kicked a puppy." Ray mumbled, moving around to look at his friend again. "Ok, so this is a start, but unless we have something solid to take to Welsh, we got nothing. You wanna investigate? I can give you the fifteen minutes 'til my lunch is over, then I have to get back to Welsh on that 'promising lead' I lied about."

Fraser looked up, gauging the seriousness of Ray's tone. "Really, Ray?"

"Absolutely."

Grabbing his hat, Fraser smiled. "Thank you. Dief, stay." Without further ado, he walked to the window and jumped out.

"This, again?" Ray called, hurrying to the kitchen window, where the fire escape was not a five foot drop away. "What are you gonna do, track electricity?" He started down the steps.

"Not quite, Ray." With a sigh, the detective reversed direction to follow Fraser's voice. "I'm going to follow the wires."

When Ray finally made it to the rooftop, he saw his friend doing just that- with one eye on the telephone cables and one eye on where he was going, he walked along the edge of the roof, somewhat precariously. Ray joined the trail without a word, though he kept his distance from the three-storey drop. He said nothing for the first few minutes, then his curiosity finally got the better of him, and he panted out a question whilst climbing to a lower roof level.

"What are you even following, anyway?"

"The main phone line from my building." Fraser explained, straightening his tunic after his jump. "If we follow it back to this neighbourhood's exchange, we'll be able to see if the line is damaged, or crossed with any others along the way."

Ray was incredulous- this was Fraser's plan? "We're really gonna follow this one cable all the way downtown? Could we not have just driven there?"

"Well, yes, but then I couldn't have checked for damage. That, and you'd have to drive so slowly that the other traffic would be-"

"Ok, I get it." Ray waved his hand, satisfied that he was fit to continue.

They followed the phone line for a further two buildings before reaching an alley so wide that Fraser couldn't convince Ray to make the jump. The thin ones, where the leap was from high to low, were just about acceptable with a run up and muted scream, but this was much wider, and the other side taller. Fraser was walking backwards to see if there was enough room for him to get sufficient speed when Ray stood in front of him, grabbing his arms and looking him in the eye.

"Benny, even Mounties can't fly. You do realise that there are staircases, right?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Also, I think the phone company would prefer if you used the front door."

Taking another look at the building, Fraser saw that it was, in fact, the headquarters of the Chicago Telephone Company, declared by a large yellow and orange sign. Following Ray down an access ladder, they were soon at street level, and just as they reached the main doors, a clock struck nearby. Fraser's eyes widened.

"Oh, Ray, shouldn't you be back at the precinct?" The Mountie was mortified. "It's an hour after your lunchtime, I'm sorry that I-"

Ray smiled with a dismissive shrug, dusting off his coat from the journey. "Don't worry, Benny. This is the best lead I've got at the moment, let's just keep going. Anyway, Welsh'll be on my back if I'm two minutes or two hours late."

"If you're sure." They entered the building.

They left the bureaucratic maze forty minutes later with exactly as many leads as they had started with: none. According to the diagnoses of several desk clerks, the line was in perfect working order, though some had threatened to write down the words Ray described it's true state of function. The pair stood in the street, wondering what to do next.

"We'd better report this to Lieutenant Welsh." Fraser suggested half-heartedly, feeling like he had wasted his friend's time.

Ray grimaced, not looking forward to the conversation, and checked the time. "You wanna get a coffee first?"

"Alright."

A five minute walk took them to Catrin's Coffeehouse, where they mulled over the notes and their investigation so far for as long as they dared. Ray refreshed Fraser's memory on the string of five robberies so far committed: all by a team of two in balaclavas, targeting corner shops and the smaller high-class businesses. The short one covered the customers whilst the taller, more brash one went for the till. With three guns between them, nobody dared to challenge the proceedings, and so far no shots had been fired. In all cases, they'd got away cleanly, without a single fingerprint or identifying mark. Their car seemed to be a black Dodge Challenger which nobody had seen the plates of, and which vanished between each heist. There was no pattern in terms of time and date; but if Fraser's phone call was anything to go by, they could expect the next robbery in the near future.

When they ran out of excuses to stay, Fraser paid in Canadian money, Ray paid in American and shoved the pink and blue bills back to his friend with an eye roll, and they left, walking back to the Riv for the short ride to the precinct.

* * *

As soon as the pair stepped inside the twenty-seventh, Diefenbaker opting to remain at Fraser's apartment, the tense atmosphere was obvious, and from the quick glances their way, it was to do with them. Feeling uncomfortable, Ray decided to call in at his desk before calling it a day, but was not to be so lucky. He was just two feet from safety when Fraser tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see the Lieutenant standing in his office door, staring. The rest of the room busied themselves.

"Vecchio, my office." The two stepped over to face the music together, but Welsh held out a hand towards Fraser. "If you wouldn't mind waiting out here, Constable, I'd like to talk to my detective privately."

"Understood."

Ray shot him a wide-eyed glance before disappearing inside. He closed the door as Welsh took his seat.

"So, Vecchio," the Lieutenant began, tone deadly calm, "this 'very promising' lead you said you were investigating when you rushed out earlier." He leaned back in his chair, and Ray gulped. "Good, was it? A solid trail of compelling evidence?"

"Well, sir, I-"

"Because you've been gone for four hours." Welsh spread his hands expressively. "Now, your lunch hour I could allow, but when you're gone for all that time, particularly when last seen with the Mountie, I have questions. Questions that my bosses are asking me, like 'When will this string of armed robberies be stopped?' and 'What is the progress on the investigation?'."

"That is understandable, sir," Ray agreed, trying to redeem himself, "but I do have some very interesting information."

Welsh stared, disbelieving. "You do. Is this information you went out to get, or just happened to stumble over? Or did the Mountie stumble over it for you?" The detective across the desk squirmed slightly.

"Constable Fraser-"

"Get him in here."

Ray opened the door and beckoned silently. Soon enough, Fraser was standing at attention in front of the desk, aware of the scrutiny that Lieutenant Welsh was subjecting him to.

"Constable, I understand you had business with Detective Vecchio this afternoon."

"Yes, sir, I did."

"And was this related to any part of his current case load? Particularly, for instance, the armed robbery string?"

Fraser paused for a moment. "No, sir, it did not. But it did yield-"

"I'm not interested." Welsh interrupted, uncharacteristically annoyed. "I appreciate, Constable, that you have few full-time duties at the Canadian Consulate, but that does not invite you into my precinct to distract my detectives."

"I think you should be interested in that information, sir," Ray cut in, looking to defend his friend, "we've got the details of the next robbery."

This made Welsh sit up, half reaching for his phone. "That's more like it! Where, what time?"

Fraser stepped in, looking awkward. "Well, sir, I'm not completely sure about those details, but I feel that it will be tomorrow. There will be two of them, one going for the customers and the other for the till."

"So far so we know." the Lieutenant pointed out, his good humour and hovering hand receding. "Anything actually useful?"

"They'll be wearing party masks rather than balaclavas," Ray put in, "and they've swapped who's going for the till and who's doing the customers."

"All very interesting, I'm sure, but the _where_ and _when_ are the real issues." He sighed, briefly closing his eyes. "I assume that the 'promising lead' was…"

"Nothing really, sir."

There was an uncomfortable silence, in which Welsh surveyed the two men in front of him, wondering what to do next. In the end, he waved his hand dismissively, but called out just as Ray was closing the door behind them. "Tomorrow, detective, I want a full and detailed report on this case so far."

"Yes, sir."

"Any myself, Lieutenant?" Fraser asked, his head sticking over Ray's.

"Just…" He looked at the two heads comically sticking through his door, and heaved a deep sigh.

"Understood."

The heads disappeared, and the door closed. Welsh shook his head as he watched the pair through his blinds, stopping off at Vecchio's desk before leaving the squad room. Those two really were…something else.

* * *

_Dohmaaahhh…_

As they made their way slowly through heavy traffic the next morning, Fraser and Ray were once more discussing the details overheard on the phone call, as well as the case in general. Both were ready for their work days ahead, the Mountie in his red dress uniform and the detective in patterned shirt and long coat, though Dief was conspicuous by his absence, being cared for by Willie. Although the boy had been interested to see that Fraser had a phone now, it had been explained to him that it wouldn't be in use for the foreseeable- a matter of considerable annoyance to Ray- as if they could hear others then others might be able to hear them. Someone, somewhere, must have heard what Ray was saying during the previous day's test, as Fraser definitely hadn't.

Just as the place they usually went to for breakfast came into view, the radio crackled into life.

"Dispatch to all units, armed robbery in progress at 211 Gambit. Two assailants, three staff, and five customers inside."

As Ray threw the Riv into a sharp right-hand turn, Fraser replied to the call and flicked the dashboard light on.

"That's two blocks away, we'll be first on the scene." Ray pointed out. "D'you think it's the one you overheard them planning yesterday?"

"Maybe." Fraser replied noncommittally.

The target was a small liquor store, with steel-shuttered windows and an inset door. The usual black Challenger was parked just outside, and as Fraser took off across the pavement, Ray paused to note the number, needing to get something out of this even if the felons got away. However, he abandoned his task at the sound of a single shot- uncharacteristic if it was the pair they suspected. Something had gone wrong.

He grabbed his gun and ran over, pausing with his back to the shutter. Peering through the door, he couldn't see much of what was going on inside- except a patch of bright red serge on the floor, not moving. Without further thought, he pulled open the door, gun trained on the nearest target, who's mark instantly moved to reciprocate.

"Police!" Ray yelled. "Drop the weapons!"

The scene inside had frozen on his unexpected arrival, the customers and staff being held in the front left corner of the store by a tall man in a cheap plastic party mask toting two automatic handguns. His partner, significantly shorter and less armed, was frozen behind the counter, his gun pointed at Ray.

The cry got the attention of the taller robber, who turned to look at the scene between his partner and the policeman. From the limited expression that his mask allowed, he didn't seem surprised. The shaky aim of the shorter thief who already had a mark on Ray made it obvious that he was the younger, more nervous of the pair, and this was confirmed when his partner intervened with both words and weapons.

"You drop yours, cop." he demanded, confidently menacing.

"Or I'll get you like I got her!" the nervous one added, voice at odds with the smile of his mask as he took a new grip on his automatic.

'Her'? Ray spared a glance to where his friend had been lying, but he had disappeared. Confused, he called "Fraser? You ok?".

"I'm fine, Ray," the Mountie replied from just behind him, to the detective's infinite relief, "he shot one of the employees in the shoulder."

"That adds assault with a deadly weapon to armed robbery," Ray said with a grim smile, "you two're going down for a long time. Loose the guns."

"I don't think so-!"

The more confident of the pair fired a single shot in Ray's direction, forcing him to drop to the floor, before the two robbers jumped over the rough heap of bodies and disappeared out the door. From his sprawled landing next to Fraser, Ray tried to sit up and get a shot at their retreating backs, but the Mountie pulled him down with one hand, the other busy putting pressure on the blood-covered shoulder of the young store attendant.

"Ray, don't risk it." he urged. "The younger one's nervous, I think…" Ray turned to look at his friend when he trailed off, and found a faraway look in his eyes. "…I think he was aiming for me."

Ray continued to watch as the Challenger pulled away, kicking himself that he couldn't do anything about it, and deciding to deal with Fraser's statement later. "It's just like you said it would be, Benny, party masks and all." Ray put the safety catch back on, getting up. "I'll call an ambulance."

* * *

The pavement outside the liquor store was a circus of people and patrol cars when the ambulance carrying the wounded worker pulled away. Ray and Fraser watched it go as they leant lightly on the Riv, the Mountie with a hard expression. His friend turned to him.

"She'll be ok." He reassured, then continued as he sensed the true emotions at play. "There's nothing you could have done, Benny."

"I should have waited, checked out the situation. When I ran in, trying to see what was going on, I- I was impatient…" Fraser pushed away from the bonnet of the Riv, opening the passenger door. "At least we didn't bring Diefenbaker. Could you drop me at the Consulate?"

"Sure, but we need to go via the twenty-seventh and report first." the detective reminded. "Welsh'll wanna hear all about this."

Accepting it with a small sigh, Fraser sat down heavily, watching passively as the Riv pulled away downtown.

* * *

Some blocks away, a black Challenger weaved through the thinning traffic of the mid-morning roads, two men in the front seats and two masks in the back. A cheap duffel was in the footwell, half-full of stolen banknotes. The men were arguing.

"Just tell me why!"

"That red one ran in, I thought he was going for me- it was self-defence. And," rambled the short man in the passenger seat, trying to redeem himself, "I did hear someone on that line yesterday. The cop? He called the red one Fraser. That's the same name I heard."

"Fred, you're sure it was Fraser?" his friend pressed, "Not Ayzer, or Fray, or-"

"It was Fraser, Eddie." the younger thief stuck his chin out childishly. "I heard what I heard."

"Not too common." Eddie was forced to acknowledge this as they stopped at a red light.

"What did we get, in the end?"

Fred wrung his hands, nervous as usual. "Well, I started with the low notes, I always do-"

"I told you that habit would bite you someday. How much?"

"About a hundred dollars."

Eddie hit the steering wheel, accelerating with unnecessary anger. "A hundred crummy dollars? And a cop on the scene, _and_ you shot someone?"

"Hey, it was the red one that-"

"That 'red one' is a Mountie." Eddie's voice had taken on a thoughtful tone. "And those Mounties, they always get their man."

"I thought the motto was-"

"They _always_ get their man." The older thief's voice was hard, now, a force to be reckoned with. "So, we'll have to get their man first."

* * *

Lieutenant Welsh met Fraser and Ray as they entered the squad room, leading them to his office.

"You two responded to the armed robbery on Gambit. Was it our pair?"

"Uh, yes, sir, it was." Ray replied, closing the door. "And the whole thing was just as Constable Fraser predicted, sir."

"It was, was it?" Welsh switched his attention to the Mountie. "Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir. The robbers were wearing party masks, and the shorter one targeted the till."

Between them, the pair explained the morning's proceedings to Welsh, then tried to gauge his reaction as he reclined in his chair, staring at Detective Vecchio. He spoke after a minute of silence.

"This Challenger that you spotted outside, was it definitely theirs?"

"Yeah, they used it as the getaway car." Ray said.

"Did you get the plate number?"

"Yes, sir, but only some of it, RCW1. It's pretty much useless."

"Oh, not completely, Ray," Fraser chipped in, "there are only a hundred combinations for the last two digits."

"That's wonderful," Welsh replied, "I see an exciting afternoon at the computer for a certain detective."

Ray groaned, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "If that will be all, sir, I'd like to get on with it."

"I still want that report, you've got until tomorrow." Welsh demanded. "And make it good." The closing of the door was the only response he got.

In the squad room, Fraser put his hat on again, headed for the door. He was late for his shift at the Consulate, the only redeeming feature being that he wasn't scheduled for guard duty- Inspector Moffatt would have his head nevertheless. Ray noticed his leaving and called after him.

"You want me to drive you, Benny?"

"No, thank you Ray, I'll walk." He had things he wanted to think about, and Ray was going to have a lot on his hands with a hundred combinations.

* * *

Midday found the detective still at his desk, only on combination twenty. First, he typed it in, then waited for the computer to respond, then sifted through the records produced to see if there was any past or present match. With Fraser's voice in his head, he checked for any 'Eddie's involved, but even that clue didn't help. It was beginning to look hopeless.

He'd temporarily swapped desks with Elaine for the task, as he anticipated it taking several hours, but they spoke briefly when Ray went to retrieve his wallet, planning to buy a quick lunch from the canteen before returning. She didn't see him, nodding as she took down details over the phone, but she did smile when he returned a few minutes later, two cups of coffee and a sandwich in hand.

"Ray, have you bought me a coffee?" she asked, suspicious of this sudden kindness as he sat in his own visitor seat.

"Nah, I'm drinking them both myself." he replied, then pushed one to her with a smile. "Part of my thank you for giving over your desk. This search is gonna take hours."

"I could help, if you…" she shrugged, burying the question in a sip of scalding sludge.

He shook his head, mouth full of bagel. "Thank you _kindly_ , Elaine, but I'm good." He chuckled to himself that he was using Benny's expressions, even sarcastically. "Like the man said, there're only a hundred possibilities- I'm a quarter of the way there."

"As long as you don't break anything." Elaine stood up. "Anything good in the machines?"

"Yeah, Hugo just restocked."

"You know the guy's name?" the civilian aid's eyebrows almost entered her curly brown hair.

"Fraser's fault." Elaine left, and Ray wondered just how much of the Mountie had rubbed off on him in their time together.

As soon as he was done, he was back at the computer, scanning the list of possibilities for where he had left off. RCW123, RCW124,- RCW125…

* * *

Unexpectedly, Fraser was allowed to leave the Consulate at lunchtime, after performing an unexpected duty. When he'd arrived after the morning's incident, he had been surprised to see a group of brown-uniformed constables in the lobby, all freshly promoted, and learned from Constable Kitts behind the reception desk that they were on a familiarisation exercise. After they finished this, they would be posted to Canadian consulates all around the world, and the metropolis of Chicago was a good place to get used to city life. Fraser nodded in understanding, vaguely wishing that he'd had that kind of experience before coming to the windy city for the first time- or even Moosejaw.

He'd been asked- or rather, ordered- to give the constables a talk on city life, and the major differences between Canada and the outside world. Inspector Moffatt felt that as Fraser had been in the same situation as they were in, he might have some wisdom to impart, and this was true- though, it may have been a more valuable exercise if he had been given some time to plan. That particular Inuit story hadn't been the best fit to his message, but he hadn't had time to think of another. The constables waited for their walking tour muttering, and Moffatt congratulated him somewhat stiffly on a job well done before giving him the rest of the day off.

Fraser headed straight back to his apartment, an idea taking shape. If the overheard details from yesterday had been true, his phone was a potential hotline of information regarding the crimes. And, until it was fixed, it could be construed as his duty to monitor that information, passing it to the relevant authorities for them to act on. He put aside his personal concerns about eavesdropping, remembering the face of the girl that the robbers had shot that morning, and knowing that he was the target- if he could get any more information, something as good as a time or location, he could prevent something like that from ever happening again.

* * *

"How's progress, detective?"

Ray looked up to see the Lieutenant looming over him, armed with an overstuffed sandwich and a demanding expression.

"I'm on combination thirty-eight, sir. No luck so far."

"Well, when you get something, I want to hear it. Another three phone calls from my boss this morning, demanding progress. Small businesses are worried."

"I understand, sir, I'll try and speed up the search."

"Just don't miss anything." Welsh started to move away, throwing behind him "And don't forget that report!"

Hidden by the bulk of the computer, Ray pulled a face. Alright, RCW138…loading…he sipped his third coffee. Behind him, at his desk, Elaine picked up a phone call, and he thought of how Benny's new landline was going- or rather, not. Honestly, every little thing turned into a case with that guy, he seemed to attract trouble- but not dirt. Never a speck on the serge.

The file finally loaded, informing him that there were no cars with that plate number registered in the state of Illinois. Doubting that someone would travel interstate just to rob a series of small stores, he cleared the search and typed in the next number. R-W-C- back, back, stupid keyboard…R-C-W, one-three- what was it? Nine. RCW139.

This file was far quicker to appear, and sent a smile spreading across Ray's face. The vehicle description matched the getaway car almost exactly- the robbers must have painted over the white racing stripes to make it less conspicuous. Switching programmes, he punched in the number and was quickly given a registered owner: Eduard Senza. He'd found the infamous 'Eddie'.

Sending the files to print, hoping they would bulk out his report, he tapped his fingers impatiently as the massive machine hummed and whirred. Just as the sheets began to appear, Elaine came up next to him with a smile.

"You've found it?"

"RCW139. Fortieth try lucky." Ray rolled his eyes, picking up the first few sheets and beginning to read.

He barely noticed as Elaine picked up the last page, looking carefully at the mug shot. They began walking back to the squad room.

"Do I know this guy?" she asked, showing him the thin face, dull, shadowy eyes boring out from beneath a thin crop of dark hair.

"I hope not, he's probably one of the robbers." Ray gave her a sideways glance. "You, uh, don't know him, do you?"

"No, probably…wait, yeah!" She hurried the last few steps to Ray's desk, picking up some notes she'd written earlier. "This looks like the guy who was at the Consulate earlier."

"At the where?" Ray's intuition told him that this was unlikely to be good.

"The Canadian Consulate," Elaine bantered good naturedly, "big building, a certain Mountie works there?"

"What was he doing?" Ray pressed, ignoring the sarcasm.

Elaine studied the call log. "He was reported by Constable Kitts, RCMP, for 'loitering and asking questions'. He thought the guy was shifty, and decided to phone it in."

"Questions about what?"

"He didn't say."

"Thanks Elaine."

Ray snatched up his phone as the civilian aide took over her own desk again, redialling the consulate. It was picked up on the third ring.

"Canadian Consulate, _Consulate du Canada_ , good afternoon, _bon_ -"

"Detective Vecchio, CPD." Ray couldn't wait for the whole bilingual greeting to play out. "Could I speak to Constable Kitts?"

The smooth voice on the other end of the line cleared it's throat. "Speaking."

"I'm calling about an incident you reported earlier, a guy asking questions and loitering?"

"Ah yes, I called that in about half an hour ago."

"May I ask what he was asking questions about?"

"Oh, the RCMP personnel, the uniform." Kitts replied. "He said he'd seen a guy in a red tunic and yellow-striped pants on the street, and wondered if that was what the Mounties really wore. I was happy to answer."

"What made you describe him as shifty?"

Kitts hummed for a moment. "Well, it was more his friend who was that, not that I got the best of looks at him. Whilst the first guy was talking to me at the desk, his friend- shorter, seemed a bit nervy- was poking his nose into rooms on the first floor. I didn't see it as odd at first, but when I thought about it, I realised that I could do worse than to tell the police."

"And approximately how long did you think about it for?" Ray asked, trying not to growl.

"Ten, fifteen minutes. It didn't seem serious."

"Another thing, is Constable Fraser there?"

"No, he left for the day just before lunch."

"Thanks." The detective hung up with one finger, immediately dialling a new number. "Five-five-five, seven-oh…seven-oh…ah, what was it?"

"Three nine?" Elaine volunteered, having missed the first part of his mumbling.

"Four three! Thanks, Elaine. Five-five-five, seven-oh-four-three."

Elaine rolled her eyes, not understanding, and Ray tapped his foot as he waited for the call to be connected, realising as he did that it probably wouldn't work anyway. He was surprised to be met by the steady beeping of an engaged line, then slammed the receiver down as he realised. Elaine looked around at the sound, and caught sight of Ray's expression.

"What's wrong?"

"They're after Fraser…"

"What? Who?"

Ray sat down heavily, sounding out his theory and hoping to find a fault. "Kitts reported two guys asking questions about Mounties at the Consulate. One tall, asking the questions, one short, poking his nose around. The question guy mentioned the jacket and pants, but not the hat? Wouldn't you mention the hat, if you were describing a Mountie?"

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't necessarily mean-"

"Fraser left his hat in the Riv when he went into that liquor store. The most obvious Mountie things would have been tunic and pants."

Still looking sceptical, Elaine moved to sit on the visitor chair. "If you're that worried, call him. He's got a landline now, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, but it's engaged, not that he would probably hear me anyway. He went there at lunchtime, but why would it be- damn."

He grabbed his coat without finishing, running from the squad room. Elaine watched him go, still wondering what on earth was going on.

* * *

Arriving at his apartment a few minutes after being dismissed, the first thing Fraser did was take the phone off the hook, resting it on the chair he placed underneath. Then he fed a bored and ungrateful Diefenbaker, who was annoyed at having been left out of the morning's excitement, but ultimately glad he hadn't had to meet a room full of cadets. Finally, Fraser made a snack for himself, and settled in for a long haul of listening.

The only things that broke the silence were occasional bursts of static on the line and Dief whining, looking to be played with or at least stroked, any attention at all. After half an hour of this, though, he gave up, trotting to the bed and settling down for a nap. Fraser readjusted his position, frowning as the wolf attempted to tuck himself in, and muttered under his breath about wild wolves and babyish behaviour.

A full hour passed with nothing to report, and Fraser was beginning to feel sleepy from inaction. Deciding that he could listen just as well if he occupied his eyes with a book, he stood, stretching, and looked over his bookcase. Not much of a selection, and mostly modern cast-offs, but enough to make him pause- Atwood or Arnold?

His thoughts were interrupted as his door was flung open, banging loudly on the wall, and he hardly had time to turn before something hit his elbow, abruptly removing all sensation from the lower part of his left arm. Wondering what was going on, he was rudely informed when hands spun him around, pushing him against the bookshelf, and he found a thin, leering face inches from his own. However, it jerked back as books rained on them, Fraser's head having caught on one of the shelves, giving the Mountie time to blink the stars out of his vision and try to work out what was going on.

In the wider apartment, a second man had entered, though he was of no threat to Fraser. Waking up quickly, Dief launched himself from the bed, chasing the second assailant back out the door, the snarls and cries receding down the corridor.

"Just you and me, Fraser…" the remaining man snarled, delivering a gut punch to the dazed Mountie that forced him to double over in pain.

A kick to the knees toppled Fraser sideways, and he gasped as he hit the floor, landing awkwardly on his temporarily paralysed arm. With that hand out of action, he used his other to vainly grab for the man's knees, hoping to pull him off balance, but received a kick to the stomach for his effort. The man crouched next to him, aware that his mark could hardly move for pain and disorientation.

"How did you get my number?" he demanded, voice deadly calm.

Fraser said nothing; he couldn't, his mind still reeling from the suddenness of the attack. If the man stepping on his injured hand was meant to restore clarity, it didn't work.

"I said, how did you get my number?"

"Phone…crossed…" Fraser gasped, but was saved further demands by the arrival of another voice, albeit distant.

"Fraser? _Fraser!_ "

"The cop." The man growled, abandoning his victim with a final press on his fingers and heading for the window.

He was passing the door at the same time Ray reached it, gun in hand, and pushed the detective back into the corridor before disappearing onto the fire escape. Keen to go after him, Ray leapt in the same direction, but was stopped by a moan from the main room. Fraser was lying on the floor on his side, eyes closed and face a mask as he tried to push himself up.

"Jesus, Benny, what happened…"

"Robbers, overheard." Ray supported him to sit on the bed, Fraser clutching his left arm as sensation began to return uncomfortably. "Get after them."

"Shouldn't I call-"

" _Go._ " Fraser insisted, tone taut.

_(Music: '_ [ _Daredevil_ ](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=Eupbsj0LvaE&feature=share) _', The Tragically Hip)_

Against his better instinct, Ray grasped his friend's shoulder in a reassuring gesture before running to the window, clambering onto the fire escape. He could see the suspect almost at the ground floor and headed that way himself, fully willing to bring the guy in by any means possible. He'd caught the other one as Dief chased him out of the apartment block and handcuffed him to the stairwell, confident that Fraser's neighbours would watch him, call it in, or both.

Now, as he reached the bottom of the fire escape, he set off in hot pursuit of the other half of the duo, certain even from a brief glance that it was Eduard Senza. Exiting the alley behind Fraser's building, he stuck his weapon in his belt when faced with an afternoon street crowded with people, not wanting any accidents. His man had reached the corner, and Ray ran after him, shoving pedestrians out the way with the excuse of 'Police!'. Senza led a merry chase, disappearing into another alley further down the block, and they entered into the jungle of backstreet buildings. Ray was so absorbed with the hunt that he missed the subtle shadow occasionally flickering across the alley, indicative of someone following at a greater height.

Leaping over piles of refuse, Ray strove to keep Senza in sight as they delved deeper into the heart of downtown. When an alley was blocked by a fence, they vaulted it in turn, and faced with a lot of parked cars it was a small matter for ray to climb onto a hood, look around, and continued the chase. Senza was not given a moment of mercy.

At one point he entered the back door of a café; without hesitation, Ray followed, hardly apologising to chefs and patrons as he barged between the tables. On the street again, he followed left and was back into the maze, Senza thankfully beginning to show signs of tiring. They were almost at the middle of the block, and Ray had almost got his man.

Now that they were away from the public, the detective had drawn his gun again, and slowed to aim a shot as Senza climbed into the roof of a low building ahead. However, the man disappeared before Ray could fire, so he was left to continue running, wishing that he had Frazer's stamina for this kind of thing…Fraser. The thought of him lying bruised and beaten in his own apartment because of something he didn't even mean to hear put fresh energy into Ray's limbs, and he leapt over a thin alley without hardly realising. Senza and his pal were gonna pay for this.

The next leap that Ray took wasn't quite so well done, which was almost lucky; Senza had climbed into the alley below, hoping to get away. Ray took a quicker way down than the access ladder, fingertips finding no lasting purchase on the opposite roof, and landed in a disorientated heap at the bottom of the wall. Almost instantly, he was scrabbling around for his gun, it having flown out of his hand during the jump, and 'found' it when he heard the familiar _click-clack_ of priming. He raised the hand he wasn't leaning on to show he was unarmed, not daring to turn around.

"That was a bad move, detective." Senza smirked. "You shoulda- woah!"

There was an odd sound of something heavy and fabric-y falling at the same time as a single shot smashed a pane of glass just above Ray's head. Ducking away from the falling shards, he turned to see Senza hidden beneath a heap of red serge. The pile groaned.

"Fraser, what-"

"I followed you, over the rooftops," the Mountie explained quickly, wincing as he was helped to his feet, "and it's a good thing I did."

"I thought the guy beat you up!"

"Oh, he did." Fraser assured seriously, flexing his left hand in an experimental gesture. "I…recovered."

"Right, right." Ray said, rolling his eyes as he cuffed Senza.

He retrieved his gun before reading the criminal his rights, and the three walked back to Fraser's building, gathering a fewer odd looks than anticipated as they did so. In Fraser’s neighbourhood, a cuffed criminal accompanied by the Mountie and his detective friend was not such an uncommon sight anymore.

They found an ambulance and two squad cars parked outside 231 East Racine, and several police personnel hanging around on the pavement. The other robber was already in the back seat of one car as it pulled away, and Senza was removed by the other. Ray gently bullied Fraser into being checked over by the paramedics before stepping over to speak to Welsh.

"Ah, Detective Vecchio. Care to explain this?" The Lieutenant's vague gesture encompassed the whole scene.

"Uh, yes, sir, we caught the pair who'd been doing the armed robberies." Ray thought that this summarised the main success. "The one I was chasing was an Eduard Senza, he owned the getaway car and beat up Fraser."

"The other one is Frederick Bolton, twenty-five." Elaine was on the scene, having raised the alert shortly after Ray ran out of the precinct and insisted on coming along. "He was in juvie for car theft where he met Senza, who's only a few years older. Seems they stuck together after they got out."

"He's got charges of armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon." Ray added.

"Eddie and Freddie, quite the pair." Welsh rubbed his chin. "Good work." He caught sight of Diefenbaker, who lazed near the building's steps trying to beg snacks off some superfluous police personnel. "Do I…want to know the full story?"

"Probably not, sir."

The Lieutenant nodded in understanding, mouthing 'Report!' as he turned away and noting Ray's sigh in reply. The detective went over to where Fraser sat on the back step of the ambulance, sitting a little less than straight with his bruised ribs and holding an ice pack to the back of his head with his right hand. His left was held out in front, and he flexed his fingers for the paramedic.

"It seems like he hit your ulnar nerve, really quite hard." the young man was saying, manually bending his wrist and noting the normal reaction.

"Sounds serious." Ray frowned.

"My funny bone." Fraser translated, and his friend relaxed.

"Your arm will be completely back to normal in an hour or so; the rest of your injuries aren't serious, but take it easy for a few days." The paramedic patted his hand and packed away her equipment.

Ray pulled him to his feet carefully. "You gonna come down to the twenty-seventh? I think I can get those two scumbags to confess before dinner."

"I just need to retrieve my- ah." Fraser took the Stetson that was proffered, surprised that it had been rescued from the alleyway. "Thank you kindly."

"No problem, Benny." They walked off towards where Ray had abandoned the Riv on arrival. "Just, next time, try not to get beaten up, ok?"

"Well it wasn't on purpose, Ray."

"I'm not saying it was, I just-" The rest of the sentence was lost in the slam of the car door.

* * *

Bolton was questioned first, though 'questioned' wasn't really the right word. Ray entered the interview room and the thief began to tremble; seeing Fraser behind him, subconsciously still somewhat cradling his arm, forced an intake of breath; but Diefenbaker was the last straw. Leaping out of his chair, he pressed himself to the far wall, shaking.

"Not the dog, not again!"

"He's a wolf, actually." Fraser corrected, taking a seat.

"A _wolf?!_ " Bolton looked on the verge of collapse. "Alright, alright, I did it! I robbed the stores, but Eddie put me up to it. He planned them and I had to go along with it."

As the two policemen left the interview room, Ray turned to Fraser, saying "Maybe the wolf isn't just a donut demon.". Dief whined, tongue hanging out as he silently asked for treats. Fraser rolled his eyes, and they moved onto Senza.

He was less willing to talk, though clearly uncomfortable under the wolf's penetrating stare, as well as being in the presence of someone very protective of the man he had attacked. Whilst Fraser player as much good cop as he could muster, Ray leaned on the desk, getting in Senza's face and, eventually, getting a confession. A black Dodge Challenger found at his residence complete with print-covered party masks and a couple of stray banknotes sealed the deal.

Ten minutes later, Ray and Fraser sat around the detective's desk, the former drafting his report whilst the latter attempted to straighten the slightly crumpled brim of his Stetson. Putting the form aside, Ray stretched his back.

"So, is your arm working again?" he asked, watching the slightly cautious movements.

"Yes, Ray, almost completely back to normal."

"Good enough to hold a fork?"

Fraser gave his friend an oblique look. "I think so…why?"

"You're coming to dinner at my place." Ray said casually, reaching for his coat. "Paramedic said to take it easy for a few days, one home-cooked meal'll do you a world of good."

"It's really not necessary, Ray, I can-"

"Benny, an hour ago you jumped off a roof, just minutes after being worked over by a violent felon." Ray's tone brooked no argument as he threw his friend his coat. "I think you've earned some of Ma's lasagne."

* * *

The Vecchio household was loud, as ever. Ray's yelled greeting bought several family members running to meet them, more than were necessary- but then, it had been 'Hey, Ma, I bought Benny, he's been beaten up.'. As Fraser gave his friend a scandalised look, Francesca was first on the scene.

"Oh my god, Benton, are you alright?" She reached for him, eyes wide with 'concern'.

"Perfectly, thank you Francesca," he replied, attempting to take a step back, "I was hardly 'beaten up'." He glared at Ray, who flashed an innocent smile before swiping his sister aside.

"Leave off, Frannie."

"Leave off what?" she demanded, but an argument between the siblings was prevented by the arrival of Ma Vecchio.

"Benton, _mio figlio_ , what happened?"

"It was nothing serious, really Mrs Vecchio." he attempted to assure her, but was led through to the living room all the same.

"Dinner will be ready soon, lasagne. I hope you're hungry!"

She left again, and Ray joined him on the sofa. There was a basketball game playing on the TV with the sound off, not that you would have known it: the incessant chat and banter of the combined generations of Vecchios in the house was loud enough to drown out the sound even if it was at maximum. A school of small children temporarily blocked the view, and Ray took the beer his brother-in-law proffered.

"You want one, Benny?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"No, thank you kindly." Fraser looked around the crowded room, wondering how anyone could hear themselves think.

His view was suddenly obscured by a hot pink miniskirt, and his averted gaze rested on the accompanying face. Frannie butted a pair of children out of the neighbouring armchair before settling down, leaning towards Fraser.

"So, Benton, what happened to you? Are you sure you don't need…medical assistance?"

"I have been declared fit by a paramedic, thank you." Fraser replied, feeling himself to be in dangerous waters. "The man in question was not particularly skilled at his craft."

"What did he want with you anyway?"

"I had accidentally overheard part of a telephone call between himself and an associate- both of them armed robbers- on my landline. He was not too happy with-"

"You've got a landline?" A wide-eyed Frannie leant even closer, and Fraser fought the urge to lean away. "What's your number?"

"Oh, it's- not. I had to get it uninstalled, it functioned- I mean, it didn't function-"

Ray stepped in, seeing that the redness creeping up the back of his friend's neck was nothing to do with the indoor temperature. "It's trash." he clarified, sneaking a smirk at his sister.

"Oh, what a shame. Ray could get someone to fix it, couldn't he?"

"What am I, your butler?" Ray huffed, sipping his beer. "No."

"Ray-"

"I'm really fine without a landline," Fraser said quickly, "I got alone perfectly well before it was installed, and-"

"But what if I ever need to call you?" Frannie pointed out, struggling to construct a situation, "What if Ray's in trouble, and I need to get hold of-"

"Hey, Frannie, leave it, ok? He's fine."

Fraser silently thanked his friend as Francesca stalked off, but was a little worried that he had hurt her feelings. Ray seemed to guess his quandary, dispelling it with a wave of his beer. "She'll get over it, she always does. Especially with you."

"Ray, what-"

"Hey, you lot!" Francesca put her head around the door and yelled to the room at large. "Dinner's ready!"

There was a stampede towards the dining room which swept all in its path, and Fraser found himself at the centre, jostled between Ray and Tony. He smiled a little, even knowing that the noise was only likely to get louder once they sat down; if this family could tolerate him so unconditionally, and with such love, he would tolerate the normality of their family life. And, at the end of a case like that, this feeling was exactly what he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> weak ending but there we go
> 
> This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoyed it! This is the longest thing I've written for quite a while, it was exciting to see the plot change as it grew in length. Disclaimer: I bent the rules of reality to make the plot viable, and am aware that this is not how phone systems really work :')
> 
> Whilst I already had some music picked out, Shadow2serenity's brilliant fic The High Iron Fist (available here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5894290/chapters/13586455) encouraged me to use it, as well as the brilliant 'Dohmaaahhh…' device :) And thank you kindly, ExuberantOcean, for the brilliant beta work- you caught some embarrassing mistakes :'D


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